


Chapter Thirty Seven (And A Half)

by calskilorn



Category: Red Queen - Victoria Aveyard
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Character Death, Gen, Spoilers, War Storm Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-24
Updated: 2018-08-24
Packaged: 2019-07-01 22:32:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15783441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/calskilorn/pseuds/calskilorn
Summary: THIS PIECE CONTAINS SPOILERS TO WAR STORM BY VICTORIA AVEYARD, SO BEWAREthis takes place in the middle of Chapter Thirty Seven, right when Mare and Maven are fighting and Mare kills Maven. This is Maven’s narrative about how he feels and what he sees in his final moments.





	Chapter Thirty Seven (And A Half)

Chapter Thirty Seven (And a Half) 

_Maven_

For all of the times people have used light to signify death, it sure is darker than I imagined it would be. And trust me, I imagined it plenty.

In fact, at times I prayed for it. For death. In between the pullings and tuggings that my mother performed on my brain, I could feel my own pure thoughts slipping away. And she did not make the removal painless. Maybe she couldn't control that part. Or maybe she let the pain blur my vision to make a point. _I know better, my son_ , she would insist. _This will make you better_.

Before I could disagree, she ripped the thought right out of me. So often I sat crying, begging my mother to stop the torture. To just let me keep the smallest moments, the tiniest memories, of joy and purity.

She denied my request with only a cold chuckle.

_Have I ever experienced a moment of simple happiness, simple love?_ I would ask myself, trying to think back to when things were simpler. But I could not. My mother started building the son of her dreams at a young age, and no matter how hard I tried, I could never piece together the slightest image. Cal and I as children, playing together? Nothing. My father ever showing a hint of love for me? Nowhere to be found.

But _now_.

I always had a small hope in me that this would be how my life ends. Not with a noble death, or a purposeless one. But at the hands of good. They have won. Mare and her family of reds and silvers alike. Maybe a small part of me had always dreamed that one day I would break free of my mothers tormenting and join their side, the light side, myself. If only it were that easy.

_Maybe that's why I don't see a light_ , I think to myself. _Because I lack it_.

I do feel the cold, though. I always _feel_ cold, but this is different. It's like a small prickling of ice, at the edges of my being. Maybe it's just my imagination. Maybe it's my warm blood, my insulation, draining from my veins and onto the ground beneath me.

It is dark. I can barely see Mare Barrow anymore.

I can't hear anything, either. Only my own final thoughts.

Then I realize, I can't hear anything. _Anyone_.

My mother is finally gone. Her barriers are, too. Then there is a sort of light I see, but not a bright white one. They are images. Dozens of memories, like photographs from an ancient album, flood through my brain. It's extremely overwhelming. And amazing.

Images of Cal and I float by now. Years spent training together, with small smiles exchanged, nonchalant pats on the back, silly jokes passed. All images I have never seen before. Images that I had longed to retrace my entire life, for as long as I can remember.

There are other small moments, too, that pass by in the blink of an eye. A proud look exchanged from my father to me. A hug from my mother, comforting and pure. The rush of warmth and love rushing through me as my lips met Mare’s for the first time. I wish I could have felt the pure joy I feel now when I was alive.

The flooding of memories seems to last a lifetime. But finally, the last few come to mind. And if my body would let me now, I would cry. Truly and painfully and wholeheartedly cry.

_Thomas_.

First, the image flashes of me holding his hands in mine, close to my heart. Then my mother, crashing through my door with a furious rage as she finds Thomas in my chambers. _If only he could have been a shadow, hidden as the Haven girl is when Evangeline isn’t there with her_. Then, Thomas and I together in his final moments, tears streaming down our faces as we say our goodbyes, as I hold onto him like a lifeline, not wanting to ever part with the sound of his heart beating.

Finally, the image of my mother beating me, as I am curled on the floor like a coward. _All because of this boy_.

_I cannot understand why he means so much to you_ , my mother growls, flicking her wrist to order her guards to the floor. To clean my silver blood off of the tile. _He could never do you any good. He will just get in our way. The throne is your future, Maven. Not some silly boy fantasy_.

And then, I am back in the chair, in front of her. And she is standing over me, as strong as a mountain, plucking at the strings in my head until they snap. I had been crying, but I am not any longer. The tears are on my pale skin, but there is no emotion to be found in me.

I am lifeless as she does her work. A dead man breathing, while his mother takes him apart and puts him back together. A toy built without all of its pieces. It will never play the same again.

It is dark. I cannot see Mare Barrow anymore.

I can no longer see Cal, or my father, or Thomas, in my head.

I feel calm.

I let out a last sigh of relief.

I am _free_.


End file.
